


build walls just to climb them

by sonofahurricane



Category: Graceland (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 11:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonofahurricane/pseuds/sonofahurricane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt on the kink meme: "Briggs really hates the new guy for a variety of reasons. He's too "green." He didn't even want this assignment. He doesn't even (really) speak Spanish yet. That doesn't mean he wants the new kid dead before he's even gotten started.</p>
<p>A missing scene for the whole "don't-get-slammed-into-the-pier" advice from the pilot. H/C and Paul's really a mostly decent guy."</p>
            </blockquote>





	build walls just to climb them

The sun was rising up in the sky, the water was just cold enough to be invigorating without being painful, and the waves were just right. Everything was perfect, except Johnny, who was sitting on his board, raising his eyebrow as Briggs paddled back out to deeper water. 

“What?” Briggs eyed him, sitting up on the board and wiping some water from his face. “You got something to say, Tuturro?” 

Johnny shook his head. “I was just wondering how you’re gonna justify practically running Warren over with your board to him. All part of the training?” 

“Hey, how I run training is none of your business,” Briggs snapped. “Besides, I don’t need to give him any more reasons to not want to be posted here, if that’s what you’re trying to imply. Guy’s got enough reasons of his own.” Across the water, Warren wiped his eyes and turned around, getting back on the board. “Dude doesn’t even know how to surf, and we both know his Spanish is more likely to get us killed than anything else.” 

“We were all green once. Lauren didn’t know how to surf when she got out here.” 

Briggs turned back to Johnny. “You like him?” he asked

Johnny shrugged and laughed. “I don’t have the vendetta you do, that’s for sure! He seems like a good dude. Did your job on the job wheel, I noticed. Besides, look, guy gets right back up on the board every time.” 

Briggs shifted his gaze just in time to watch Mike catch a wave, the younger agent rising slowly up on the board until he was standing up. Johnny cheered and clapped, shouting “Yeah, Mikey!” across the water. Mike turned his head, and suddenly the board veered off course. 

“Oh shit,” Briggs cursed. “Warren, watch for the pier!” By that point it was too late. Mike, clearly panicked, slipped from the board and the wave dragged him under, heading straight for the metal supports half-hidden by water. Briggs and Johnny both began furiously paddling towards him, cursing up a storm. They hit shore, and Briggs ripped the leash from his ankle, shoving his board further on land and sprinting back into the water towards the pier. “Get the kit!” he shouted over his shoulder to Johnny, crashing his way through a wave. 

Mike had resurfaced by the time Briggs got to him, and was clutching both the pier support and his board, coughing furiously. “Mike!” Briggs said, and Warren looked up. His nose was runny and his eyes were wet, and Briggs had to wonder if he had thrown up water after coming back up. His head was lacerated and it looked like he had cut his hand too. 

“The fin,” Mike winced, struggling against the water to stay upright. “I got stuck under the wave and hit my hand against it.” Briggs reached out a hand toward him, moving closer in the water. 

“You alright to walk out of this onto the beach?” he asked. Mike let go of the pier support and grabbed Briggs’s hand, nearly falling into the water in the process. Exhaustion or a mobility issue? Briggs took Mike’s arm and slung it over his shoulder, shifting to try to take some on some of Mike’s weight. The water was shallow, but that was definitely a limp Warren was sporting, so they took it slowly, making their way through the water. Warren was shaking too, Briggs realized, though his breathing seemed uncompromised; he was definitely taking deep breaths, so that was a good sign.

“You should know,” Briggs said as a tiny wave crested against their ankles, “I take first aid pretty seriously. Especially when it’s one of my agents.” Mike glanced up at him tiredly, like he wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. “Name?”

“...Mike Warren?”

“Is that a question or an answer? I’m serious Warren, you’ve got a head injury. I should be assuming neck injury too, but we’ll worry about that once we get up on shore.” 

“I’m not going to a hospital.” Mike tried to speed up walking, as if to prove he could make it to shore just fine, thanks, but he wasn’t moving very fast, and Briggs had a hold of his arm anyway. 

“I’ll be the one to determine that, thanks very much. You still haven’t seriously answered the first question.” 

“My name is Mike Warren.”

“And you know where you are, Mike?”

“On the beach in southern California.” 

“Yeah, you are now.” Briggs lifted Mike’s arm from his shoulder and helped him to the ground, then looked up to see Johnny running towards them, holding a first aid kit in one hand and—thank God—a blanket tossed over the other arm. “Just in time! I hope that’s not straight off my bed.” 

“You think I’d take that rag for Mike? When was the last time you washed that, man?” He handed Briggs the first aid kit with a grin, and turned to Mike, squatting next to him and tenderly tucking the blanket over his shoulders. “You doing all right, Mikey?” 

“Well he’s aware and oriented,” Briggs said, kneeling in the sand to unzip the first-aid kit, pulling out gloves and snapping them on. “I’m gonna skip the ABCs, don’t tell my supervisor, but Johnny if you could hold his head? I’m not sure about the possibility of a neck injury.” 

“You know I never gave you permission to touch me,” Mike cut in, the fingers of his uninjured hand wrapped up in the blanket. Instead of doing as Briggs asked, Johnny stood back up, backing away slightly as Briggs got to work.

“I never asked for permission.” Briggs leaned in and gently placed his hand on top of Mike’s head, his thumb above the cut, using a sterile bandage in his other hand to wipe away the blood from his face. Mike winced. “You have a headache, Mike?” 

“I never said you could-”

“Warren I’m ordering you to remain silent unless you’re asked a question, and then you are to only answer that question honestly. I’m your commanding officer and I’m not going to tolerate macho bullshit only to have you dry drown tonight.” Mike’s mouth opened, but Johnny shook his head, and the mouth closed to a firm line. “That’s better. Besides, do you really think I’m above knocking you out if you kept protesting? Because I’m not.”

Johnny laughed. “He’s really not.” 

“You shut your mouth too.” Briggs leaned back and looked straight at Mike, who glowered back at him. Focused eyes, that’s good, and it didn’t look like any bruising was forming around them. “Where were you last week, Mike?”

“DC.” The response definitely sounded bitter in Briggs’s ears, but he chose to ignore it. 

“What were you doing there?” Briggs dug around in the first aid kit, coming up with some antiseptic cream, a soft bandage and some bandage tape. 

“Finishing my training, sir.” 

“You do good?” Mike flinched as Briggs applied the antiseptic cream, then set his jaw tightly. 

“You’ve read the file, right?”

Briggs made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, continuing to apply the antiseptic cream. Going back to the square bandage and tape, he noticed Mike’s white knuckles knotted in the blanket. “What hurts the most, Mike?”

“It’s nothing, sir.”

“Don’t tell me it’s nothing, Warren, or I’m going to call an ambulance down here right now. Johnny, head back to Graceland and make the call.” Briggs glanced over to make sure Johnny was turning in the right direction, but Mike lifted his injured hand, signaling Johnny to stop.

“It’s just the cream, sir. Stings for a second, that’s all.” 

“Good. Johnny, stay here.” Johnny’s uncle was Army, and Johnny about-faced like a good soldier. “Tell me what happened out there. We watched you fall off the board...” 

Mike’s eyes were glued on the sand, and he sat stiff and rigid, not moving as Briggs applied the bandage firmly and pressed it down against his head before using the tape. “You told me not to get slammed into the pier, but I got slammed anyway,” he said stiffly. 

“Johnny distracted you,” Briggs offered, knowing it wasn’t really a great excuse because underneath it there was _you got distracted_. 

“I got cocky,” Mike sighed.

“Probably not for the last time,” Johnny said, and Mike glanced up at him, definitely glaring. 

“Let’s see that hand, Mike,” Briggs quickly changed the subject, and Mike extended his injured hand out to Briggs. “Doesn’t look like it’s too deep,” Briggs mused, wiping at the blood with a sterile bandage. 

“Yeah, just slap a giant band-aid on it,” Johnny cracked, and Mike smiled, just a little bit. Briggs grinned too, reaching for more antiseptic cream. 

“It’s gonna sting,” he warned, applying it carefully. Mike closed his eyes and set his face, opening well after Briggs had finished and thrown the packet back into the kit and gathered up the bandages and tape. 

“Man’s in his happy place,” Johnny quipped, and Mike shook his head, wincing a little bit as Briggs ripped the length of tape off and secured it. 

“There,” Briggs leaned back on his heels and admired his handiwork. “Not half-bad. I think we’re gonna get away with no ambulance trip, Mike.” 

“Well that’s a relief,” Mike said, his shoulders relaxing. “Do I have permission to go home?”

“You sure you can walk that far on your own? You were limping coming in.” 

“I think my leg’s just bruised. I’d rather check it myself than strip down out here on the beach, if it’s all the same to you.” 

“Well if there’s gonna be no skin, I don’t know what I stuck around out here for,” Johnny stuck his tongue out and raised his eyebrows at Mike, who blushed.

“Pretty sure it was to collect and carry back Mike’s board, Captain One-Liners,” Briggs said, and Johnny groaned. “Go on, someone’s gonna have to do it, and you’re not gonna seriously make Mike do it, are you?” Johnny rolled his eyes and grabbed the board, heading further down the beach to collect his own, long forgotten in the emergency. Briggs stood up, and offered Mike his hand, helping him stand slowly. Mike winced, and rubbed his hand against his chest. He looked pretty steady on his feet, but if he got thrown against the pier support with any kind of force... “You’re sure you’re okay?” Briggs asked, putting his hand on Mike’s shoulder. “I’m not trying to ship you out of here. If you’re not ready for action, you gotta tell me, because I can’t send an agent into the field if he’s physically or mentally compromised. That’s a way to get us all killed.” 

Mike nodded. “I know. I’m pretty sure it’s just a bruise. I’ll be alright.” 

“Okay.” Briggs lifted his hand from Mike’s shoulder, and gave him a gentle clap on the back. “Go back up to the house and rest. If you feel nauseous, head spinning, anything, you get someone right away, got that? I trust you to know the difference between some bruising and aching muscles and something more serious.” 

“Yes sir,” Mike said, and headed up the beach slowly, but stopped short and turned around. “Briggs?”

“Yeah?” Briggs looked over his shoulder and started walking backwards towards where his board was still laying in the sand, Johnny standing near it. 

“Thanks. For teaching me how to surf and patching me up.” 

Briggs grinned. “Anytime, Warren. The minute you’re not one big bruise, we’ll get back out there, hear me?”

Mike grinned back. “Yes sir!” he replied, and headed back towards the house. 

The sand was really starting to warm up, Briggs realized as he crossed the beach and picked up his board. Johnny was making that face at him again. “What now?”

“You were never that touchy-feely with me on my first day.” 

“If I didn’t know any better, Tuturro, I’d say you were a little bit jealous. Is that it? Are you jealous?”

“Not of the bruises he’s gonna have by tomorrow. Man, when I was talking about surfing being better than sex, I wasn’t talking about that.” 

“That comparison is so bad, Johnny. I’m gonna recommend you drop it as soon as possible.” They started the trek back up to the house, Johnny awkwardly clutching two boards. “What do you say to a hearty breakfast this morning?” Briggs asked, kicking up a small cloud of dust. 

“You serious?” Johnny laughed, stumbling a little bit as the weight of both boards shifted in his arms. “Is that an offer from you?”

“Why the hell not? It’s already been an adrenaline filled-morning, and maybe afterwards I can get Charlie to run some food up to Mike, if he’s not feeling it at the moment.”

“Not sure he’s gonna be feeling much of anything but pain for a little while,” Johnny chuckled, then glanced at Briggs. “You like him better now, after all that?”

Briggs’ smile was somewhere between genuine and a grimace. “He’s still like a walking textbook, he still can’t speak Spanish and he’s still painfully green,” he said. “But we’ll see. It might work out after all.”


End file.
